


My Mind, My Wing

by mickian



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickian/pseuds/mickian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You awake?” he says and tightens his grip on the door knob. “Your family went back home.”</i>
</p><p>Post 4x12 ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mind, My Wing

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh. Can Season 5 start now? *nervously scrapes toe on the ground while trying not to whine like a tea kettle*

Mickey opens the door to his room carefully, finding Ian in the exact same position he's been in the whole day.

“You awake?” he says and tightens his grip on the door knob. “Your family went back home.”

He isn't expecting a reply, but it's still a disappointment when he doesn't get one. Ian simply pulls the blanket higher up over his face, showing he's awake at least.

“Look, can – can I come inside?” Mickey asks, because the last time Ian had yelled at them to leave him alone it seemed to have taken so much energy from him Mickey doesn't want a reprise. Since even staying in bed seems to be a struggle, he doesn't want Ian to getting pissed, although any kind of reaction from him would be kind of a blessing right now. Mickey's still confused about what this whole bipolar shit even is, and most things Fiona tried to tell him ended up a blur, but he knows well enough now from the walk-through that Ian's mom has done things he never wants Ian to do.

“I won't talk if you don't want me to,” he tries again, taking a step inside and reaching behind himself to turn off the light in the hallway before closing the door.

Everyone's asleep already, Svetlana having taken the baby for the night – she promised him as long as Mickey kept an eye on him during the day occasionally, the baby would be all hers from evening to morning, a deal Mickey's even more grateful for now.

He steps out of his jeans and pulls his shirt over his head, getting on the bed, the dip in the mattress from his knee feeling monumental somehow. “I'll crash on the couch if you want me to,” he says, even though he doesn't mean it – if Ian doesn't want him in the same bed he'll park his ass on a fucking stool and watch over him until the morning. 'Suicidal', his sister had mentioned, and he might not know much about mental illness but he sure knows what that means, even if his mind can't connect it to Ian.

For all that Mickey's suspected something's been up with him, at least Ian's been  _happy_  all the time, and you don't just go from making numerous bright plans for your future to wanting to die – you just don't. You don't.

...Do you?

“This okay?” He says quietly, reaching out to lay a hand on Ian's shoulder, biting his bottom lip when Ian stays limp and useless like a wet rag. “Fuck, man, can't you just say  _something_?” Mickey slides his arm around him, tightening his grip when Ian doesn't flinch away. Ian lets out a shaky breath and Mickey pulls him closer, getting himself under the blanket and wiggling until it covers them both.

If Ian doesn't want him here he's just going to have to fucking wake up and push him away, because Mickey isn't going anywhere.

“We'll make it better, 'aight?” Mickey says, sucking his lips into his mouth and holding his breath when Ian's hand comes to cover his, the sweet relief of their fingers intertwining like air to his lungs even if Ian's grip is slack in his. “I promise I'll make it better, 'kay? Just hang in there and we'll fix it.”

He presses a kiss to the top of Ian's head, breathing in his scent. He's lost him once already and he's not going through it again – not after the past weeks, not when losing Ian is the worst thing that could happen to him, the thing he fears the most. Mickey might not put it in so many words when others can hear, but he used to think his dad was the thing he was the most scared of, and well. He knows now that it isn't; it's losing the person in his bed, and he is  _not_  going to do it to something he can't even control.

“We'll get through this, tough guy,” he whispers again, but Ian's already gone back to sleep, leaving Mickey alone with his thoughts.


End file.
